


Love in the Penalty Box

by goalielove43



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Attraction, Bets & Wagers, First Time with a guy, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, NAHL, NM Ice Wolves, Public Sex, penalty box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goalielove43/pseuds/goalielove43
Summary: Graziano insights some shit with the team and so many people get caught in the crossfire of a fucked up bet that it's both terrifying and hilarious.
Relationships: Drew Lorinchak/Griffen Sanom, Josh Graziano/Drew Lorinchak
Kudos: 10





	Love in the Penalty Box

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to a certain friend who attended a game with me and made me laugh so hard over the mere idea of "handjobs in the penalty box" and "two minutes of love" that I couldn't stand it and had to write this. Reminds me of 7 minutes of heaven but more public and thirty times more hilarious.  
Beta: Jess
> 
> As usual, this implies nothing truthful about the guys. It's all fiction and for fun.

Drew stared at Josh, working his teeth against one another in an effort to keep his mouth from outright hanging open. Nothing in the world had prepared him for their goalie’s little smart mouth idea of a bet. Not that he shouldn’t have seen it coming with all the sassing Grazi had been giving him outside of here. Okay, so it probably should have been obvious when he admitted he kind of had a thing for Griffen. Or rather, how hot the guy was… and maybe a little bit about how goddamn adorable he was when he tried. Okay, it was a Thing. Capital T. Not that that changed how he felt about Grazi in the least. Damn goalie was his best friend outside of the rink and his partner in crime within it and honestly he’d told him about his preferences to see if maybe Josh had wanted some. 

So far it had only managed to earn him looks he’d file under ‘heated’, one tentative kiss that had been interrupted in the worst way possible, and a shitload of boners he’d had to take care of himself after staring far too long at the guy. But hey, getting anything from Grazi was totally worth it. Except, right now he was reconsidering given the words coming out of Grazi’s mouth.

“These assholes keep stacking up the penalty box, right? And we keep getting angrier and angrier as the game goes on and it’s just not gonna help us win if we let it get to us. So I think there should be incentive to stay the fuck out of the box. We saw the mess last night, how many people we could stuff in the damn glass house at once. I say if more than one gets in there, it’s sexual favors time. To each other. This way… no one wants to end up in there and we’ll always be at least one player up from them, right?”

Drew’s toes curled in his skates as he desperately tried to keep the look of shock off his face. This wasn’t happening. If he ended up in there and shit went down it’d be so obvious he was into it and-

“That’s the most messed up shit I’ve ever heard and trust me, I’ve heard some shit from the guys over the summer. But I can’t say it wouldn’t work. End up in there once, you ain’t doin’ it again.” Keenan sat forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Either we end up smarter with when we push them or we play a clean game out there. Or... “ he made a jerking off motion with his hand and shook his head, looking somewhere between amused and grossed out.

“Rules?”

“It has to happen, you can’t get out of it,” Zach chimed in. “If you can get out of it, no one will pay it any attention. It’s gotta be punishment and enacted or it’s shit.”

Drew sat there, arms folded across his chest, sort of wanting to die. If he ended up in the damn box with some of these guys, he’d pop off so fast it would be obvious he enjoyed it.

“We’re right next to press and the coaches, how the fuck are we supposed to hide it?”

“Figure it out like all of us used to in high school, man. If you can get a hand down a girl’s pants, you can get your hand on a dude’s dick. Just sayin’.” Grazi stood up and headed for the door. “I’ll be chirping your asses every single time you pass me if you end up in there more than once, so don’t try me.” 

He left and Drew stared at Keenan, willing him to do something, to say it wasn’t allowed or this wasn’t actually happening. But the damning words had been said at the beginning of the whole thing. _”I bet you can’t stay out of the penalty box.”_ Those were fighting words in hockey; maybe worse down here than in the NHL. Or at least Drew couldn’t think of a single NHL player who would have let this shit stand. Not that he knew too many, but most of a team should count.

“Alright, you heard the man. Don’t get in the box and don’t get caught if you do.”

The guys started to file out of the locker room and Drew had to fist his hands to keep them from shaking. He was so completely fucked if he ended up in there. And yet… he also kind of wanted to, which made it all that much more fucked up.

He stood in the hallway, watching the clock countdown to game time and it felt like a ticking time bomb on his sanity today. Instead of exhilarated, he felt scared, ashamed, completely unprepared for whatever was coming. But he also knew himself and he knew Grazi. The jerk was giving him a way to relieve his tension with Griffen without the guy ever knowing and honestly, he wasn’t sure he could keep himself out of the box if Griffen ended up in there tonight. 

They went out and the anthem played and Drew felt like an ass the whole time, half chubbed up in his gear, uncomfortable as all get out and he was beyond pleased he wasn’t first line anymore. Starting a game like that would be agonizing. Once the game started he’d be okay… he hoped.

By the time he went over the boards, he’d absorbed himself into the game enough it no longer mattered what the penalties were. Only the game mattered. His first shift went fine and when he came back over the boards, he plunked himself down next to Gabe and accepted the water bottle he’d been passed. Two more shifts and he honestly started to think the threat was working. No one on their side had ended up in the box yet even though one of the other team had popped Cooper in the face. He’d just stood there and let the refs deal with it, terror in his eyes and really, who could blame him? Random handies with another dude and the potential of getting caught didn’t bode well for anyone’s future.

They scored right before the end of the first and the trek back to the locker rooms went well enough. No one brought up the box or the rules, though that was maybe more because there were coaches present than anything. By the time they were back out on the ice for the second period, Drew was starting to see their normal playing style seep in. He should have reminded some of the guys, put it back in their heads that they couldn’t risk it, but he just didn’t. 

Seven minutes twenty three seconds in, #23 of their team, the shitbag, decided hooking was a good call and landed Drew right on his ass, half dragging him along for long enough someone should have called it. The refs didn’t even look at him. Less than a minute later he took a hard shove to his back and landed on his knees and when he came back up #61 tripped him and that was _it_. His fist connected with dickbag number two and suddenly he had two guys on him, beating the living shit out of him and it didn’t take but a moment to hear yelling and one of the guys was yanked off of him and thrown to the ice, a flash of white and red telling him it was one of his own protecting him from this bullshit.

He got it all out of his system, beating on the guy in front of him until they slipped and ended up in a heap on the ice and refs were yanking them apart. The audience was screaming and he was aching, but damn it… it was worth it.

Everyone was hauled to their respective boxes, Drew going in first without argument, just glad he wasn’t bleeding. He plunked down on the bench and looked over when there was a tap on the glass, Keenan pointing down so he peered over the glass, watching him make a lewd jerk-off motion and he sat back, suddenly stone cold despite how hot and sweaty he was. He glanced at the other box, watched three men file in and after a moment, his helper skated toward him and his breath got caught up in his throat. Fate was a mean mother fucker today.

None other than Griffen fucking Sanom seated himself beside Drew, looking like he was about as nerve wracked as Drew was. He hunched forward and murmured, “I tried to get out of it, said I was only protecting you and it wasn’t fair because they didn’t step in like they should have. I talked my time down, but…” he shrugged a little. “I’m sorry, man. I guess I shouldn’t have stepped in, but it wasn’t right and-”

“It’s fine.” Drew felt like his voice was trying to stick in his throat, his words strangled and desperate. “Just have to get it over with… or we can ignore the bet and see what comes of it. Your choice.”

“With this gang of idiots? They’d probably make us do it in front of them. No thanks.”

“It already kind of _is_ in front of them.” Drew gestured to where Keenan was giving them a shit-eating grin and watched Griffen look up and then away. 

Griffen scooted over on the bench and took off his gloves, sort of covering his crotch. 

Drew glanced at the press box, noted they were all staring at the ice and then back at their coaches, all busy with the game, not them. He thanked everything in the world their usual attendee wasn’t in the box with them and quickly untied his pants, easing the fabric away enough to let Griffen in if he chose. Which, he straight up just _did_ a second later, sliding his hand in and grabbing Drew’s dick.

Drew gasped, unable to stop the reaction, his cock stiffening under the touch and he didn’t bother checking himself or his reaction time as he reached across Griffen’s lap, sliding his hand into his open pants and under all the layers, finally wrapping his hand around Griffen’s dick, which bless everything in the world was rock hard already. He stroked him quickly, holding nothing back, eager to get him to cum before their penalties were up, Griffen’s time so much less than Drew’s.

His own cock throbbed, beyond pleased to have Griffen’s hand around it, and he didn't his hips from pushing up into it, orgasm rising inside him too fast for anything normal but perfectly fast enough for the four minute penalty Griffen had been assessed. He stroked faster, glanced at Griffen and how his lips were parted, his cheeks flushed with something that wasn’t cold and he thought how very beautiful he looked like this. Like he was going to fall apart at any-

And there it was, the tensing of Griffen’s thighs, the way he stopped breathing, and then the twitch of his dick in Drew’s hand as he flooded cum all over his hand and the inside of his pants. Drew stroked him through it, his own hips rocking to help with his, the clock on less than forty five seconds and he wasn’t going to be left high and dry and desperately wanking alone in his box. No way, not when he could cum with Griffen’s hand around his stiff cock.

His thighs spread a bit more and he managed to only mouth out, “Oh god,” before he tipped over the edge, muscles twitching, cock unloading for Griffen’s steady touch, and it was _everything_. Glorious and terrible and so good and so so bad because he loved every second of it. Taking in a shaky breath, he watched as Griffen wiped his hand on the inside of his jersey, quickly got himself situated, and stood up as the clock counted down the last few seconds. Their eyes met and Drew stared at him, hoping to see anything that wasn’t anger there. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Really, it’s fine. No issues.”

Griffen nodded, opened the door a crack and stared at the clock, waiting on the last few seconds. Just before he stepped out, he glanced back and murmured, “I’m good, too. Wasn’t… terrible.” Just like that, he was gone and Drew was left fixing himself up, getting his hands clean and his gear sorted out. He triple checked for lingering cum beyond the scent of jizz in the box, giving a heady smell to the ice and sweat and everything hockey already smelt like. He decided this was his new favorite smell; not that he’d ever tell anyone that.

His clock wound down and when he went out, it was right back over into their benches, someone else replacing him and somehow it was Spencer he ended up sitting next to. They knocked knees and Drew glanced at him but he wasn’t looking at him, just staring out at the ice. “Was it terrible?”

Drew considered his answer and finally muttered, “Rather not talk about it.”

A quiet huff of a laugh was his response and when it was his turn to get back out there, fate landed him protecting Grazi in the net and while he didn’t get chirped for it, he did get a single naughty grin before it was all business and hockey. It all faded away like it’d never happened, even in the locker rooms between periods no one brought it up despite no coaches anywhere to be seen.

Third period saw two more in their box and Drew could see how disheveled they were, their cheeks flushed with something that wasn’t cold and their complete lack of desire to meet anyone’s eyes telling him they’d done the deed, too and he filed it away to think about later, particularly given one of them was Keenan. Asshole deserved it for the shitty looks. Probably deserved it for hogging all the fans that wanted a piece of him, too, if the other guys were to be asked.

They won, by the skin of their teeth, one goal in the last thirteen seconds of the game making it their game and when they all hit the locker rooms, everyone was too happy to bring up anything that may have gone on in what Drew could only think of as the glass house of shame now. Privately, he might consider it the glass house of pleasure, but that was a secret sort of thing, not something he should think about during games or practice. 

Griffen paused by his cube on the way out, fist held out, and Drew fist-bumped him with a breath of relief, giving him a tentative smile that was returned and when he glanced at Josh, he could see the held back smirk and the only thing he could do was flip him off and go back to dressing. Fucker.


End file.
